


The God of Time

by StrangertoBluewaters



Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangertoBluewaters/pseuds/StrangertoBluewaters
Summary: Where did it all start?





	The God of Time

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go. It was supposed to short, smutty and to the point. But that's impossible for me.

The God of Time

 

**AN: what began as a simple smut fic quickly grew out of control.**

  
  


Chris was more than relieved to not only have Burnham back on the ship but Spock as well. She did it, she really pulled it off. He wasn’t entirely pleased with the fact she had gone to Talos IV but needs must and it helped Spock’s mind to be saved and it... well, it hurt more than he was willing to show. It wasn’t that they went to the literal definition of a forbidden planet. It was who was still on that planet that tormented him.

 

It had been a long time since he had entertained the idea of Vina at all. He had thought about her, often and a lot after  _ Enterprise  _ had left Talos. What he could’ve said differently to get her to come with them. Maybe if he had tried harder to save her... 

 

Vina had looked well and beautiful and elated to see him. At first he had been terrified of her when she appeared to him, memories of the pain he had endured on Talos resurfacing and latching onto him. The fire in which the Talosians had forced him to burn in...

 

_ A fable from your childhood... _

 

He literally burned in hell on that planet. Thousands of Talosians inside his head at once, watching and listening and stealing each and every secret he had kept. He had wanted to go back for Vina countless times but he knew what the end result would always be.

 

Discovering she had him in her own way wasn’t unpleasant but it wasn’t exactly comforting either. She had some version of him while he was still alone. 

 

He’s alone now, sitting and drinking slowly from his cup. He doesn’t intend to get drunk. He intends to feel sorry for himself despite a job well done. Spock was on  _ Disco _ , Michael was safe and sound. Tyler was still confined to quarters for the time being as a precaution and he hated to admit he took no pleasure in that.

 

Last week maybe he would’ve felt differently but not today. 

 

Today he had his friend and fellow officers back, that was one hell of a win. And he was a fugitive of Starfleet and the Federation... he deducted plenty of points for that. 

 

His delta pin lay in front of him on the glass coffee table, staring back at him. Raising his glass he toasts to what it once meant to him... what it still means to him.

 

_ You’re hoping they won’t lock you and everyone on this ship up, hoping you’re right,  _ it says to him. He fills his glass and knocks another one back.  _ And for what?  _ **_Faith_ ** _... _

 

His door chimes and he lets it go unanswered for a minute, then it goes off again. Sighing deeply he rises to answer it personally. Whoever it is it better be important. He wasn’t prone to fits of rage towards crewmembers but he wasn’t in much of a mood for anything that could wait. 

 

“Burnham.” He says her name with a hint of surprise. “Is everything alright?”

 

His previous notions of shooing anyone away went out the window, immediately he was ready for bad news, he wasn’t sure why.

 

“Yes, but... may I come in?” She asks and he nods, stepping aside and he realizes how this must look. Captain drinking alone, out of uniform with the lights low spelled:  **LONELY** . 

 

She notices the glass in his hand and the bottle on the table. If she’s judging him she doesn’t show it. 

 

_ I was in love with Michael...  _ Tyler’s voice rings through his head. He had hoped it would be Michael to confide in him why having Tyler on board bothered her more than she was letting on. He was disappointed in himself he didn’t wait for her to come to him. 

 

Did he need to ask Tyler at all? He rationalized it as being part of the job, needing to know the source of the tension between Michael and Ash so that he could discern whether or not to keep them apart or to continue having them work together. But he had been impatient and curious. 

 

That and-

 

“I didn’t take you for a man to drink alone, Captain.” Says Michael, her voice kind. He lifts another glass. 

 

“I’m not.” He says, pouring her a drink and handing it off to her, which she accepts but doesn’t immediately drink from. “How’s Spock?”

 

“Resting.”

“I’m sorry?”

 

She notes the surprise in his voice. Now that Spock was back to being Spock, Chris expected him to be determined to get to work, especially now that he had access to a ship of  _ Disco’s  _ caliber. She was one of the most advanced science vessels in the fleet and he was... taking a nap?

 

“Yes,” Michael confirms. “I think we all need a little rest and relaxation after this is over.”

“If we’re not cooling our heels in a cell somewhere.” He reminds her with a sigh and she smiles again. The fact that she’s not openly worried seems to give a bit of silent reassurance. Unless she was just that good at covering her insecurities. If she was anything like a Vulcan he expected nothing less. 

 

“Michael,” he says her name and the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand on edge. “I... I have to tell you something.” He gestures she join him on the couch, she follows with a slight hesitance in her walk. “I asked Tyler what your previous relationship was.”

 

Michael’s heart pounds behind her ribcage and she chooses then to imbibe in the drink he had offered her earlier. It has finally come down to... this. The sorted little details of her past. 

 

“I know you had said you would tell me in your own time but for the sake of the mission I needed to know.” He explained, a half truth but he pushed those thoughts aside. Vina still weighed heavily on his mind in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Someone else had been occupying his romantic thoughts lately. Now there seemed to be no room in his head for anything. 

 

Now all Chris could do was think about it all it once. A never ending loop of pleasant smiles and friendly debates. Then Vina... alone, but not alone, on a planet light years away losing herself in her fantasy. 

 

“I understand, captain.” Michael tells him. “Honestly this whole mission has been... an emotional rollercoaster.” 

 

Chris likes it when she uses earth slang or phrases because it doesn’t sound quite right when she does, there’s something disconnected from it; but it doesn’t bother him. It continues to highlight how human she is but how different from any other woman he’s ever met. 

 

Not that he believed himself some grand Casanova of the stars. Far from it. He was called old fashioned more often than not by his peers. 

 

“I’ll drink to that.” He refills their glasses and they share another drink. 

“What happened down there?” He asks her and she rests her elbows to her knees, her hands under her chin. 

 

“The Talosians power is frightening,” she begins slowly. “Beautiful in a way but... it felt so real. Inside Spock’s mind I could even smell the hospital room. And when I had to show them  _ my _ pain, it was like it was happening in real time. Like I was back on Vulcan, hurting Spock all over again.”

 

Michael feels his hand cover hers, she breathes out evenly when he touches her because she’s close to losing it, close to weeping in front of a captain which she’s never done before. Something in the time between the second and third glass had shifted. Their ranks were forgotten, she wondered if they were friends now.

 

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” Chris says, his voice is low and she turns more towards him. 

 

“I want to but it’s like it sits in  _ here _ ,” she puts her hand over her heart, pressing. “Small but with the weight of an starship.” 

 

Chris exhales sharply and clears his throat, he feels Vina’s hand on his shoulder, he can hear her voice telling him to let go. Christ he didn’t want to... 

 

“Captain?” She’s concerned when his grip tightens on her hand, his eyes are strained and he’s staring off across the room. “Did you love her?” 

 

For some reason the question brings him back to a warm state of calm and he loosens his grip, afraid he might hurt her. Another drink is knocked back, his grinds his moullers before answering, 

 

“I don’t know. But I do know it hurts to leave her there as much as it did the first time. Do you still love Tyler?” 

 

Michael feels his knee against her own, the gentle reassurance that he’s beside her, that they’re unmasking themselves together. She never realized how comfortable his presence was to her until now. That they can be open with one another is a comfort she takes great care not to harm. 

 

They’re both vulnerable and tender and with no one to talk to. A recipe for a multitude of disasterous scenarios. 

 

“Yes,” she answers truthfully. “But I can’t forget what he did. Sometimes I find myself bargaining, you know? Bargaining with the good he’s trying to do now that could outweigh what he did. The closer I get to that the more it hurts. When I see him... I  _ feel _ his hand around my neck and-”

 

“What?” Chris’s tone is sharp and his eyes are fixed on her, they flick to the neck in question and then back to her face. Michael looks as puzzled as he and he’s not sure who should be more outraged at the moment,

 

“I thought he told you-”

“He told me he was in love with you, Michael,” he pauses searching her face. “Did Ash Tyler assault you?” 

 

Michael can’t breathe, she can only hear her heart drumming in her ears. His hand leaves hers to rest on the small of her back and before she knows what’s happening her head is in the crook of his neck, she was weeping. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “It’s alright. I didn’t know, I’m sorry.” 

 

It’s not his fault. He’s too kind and too good to be malicious.  _ Discovery  _ deserved a captain like him. And each time Michael reminds herself that this isn’t his true place, this isn’t his ship, it hurts worse each time. What would they do without him? What did they do to deserve him...?

 

Inhaling softly, getting herself under control, she smells him. She embraces the heat of his body oozing into her own, the feeling of his hands on her and she can’t help but let her mind wander to how long it’s been since she’s felt desired or loved. Maybe that wasn’t what Pike was thinking but it’s what she was thinking now. 

 

The touch of a friend was different than the touch of a lover. But what was someone before they became lover? What was the word for that? It wasn’t a crush; that would involve something akin to her being actively aware of how she felt about him. She did to an extent. At face value he was physically impeccable. Sweet, kind, generous with eyes that pulled you in. Eyes she suddenly felt she could live without seeing. 

 

The gentle scrape of his stubble on her scalp through her short hair, his breath in her ear tickled her spine and nerves. They were both a little too sad and a little too lonely to be left alone with one another. 

 

Yet here they were, licking each other’s wounds in the hope it might make them feel a little better. 

 

Chris was more than happy to keep Ash Tyler confined to his quarters now. His previous guilt had been washed away with the revelation that he had attempted to physically hurt Michael, beyond the anger he felt that Ash emotionally abused her trust was insult to her enough. But now he understood more of Tyler’s apprehension when he asked him outright what his and Michael’s relationship had been.

 

“I’ll throw him out a damn airlock.” He says firmly and she smiles against his neck.

“I already did once.” He leans back to look at her and a small chuckle bursts from between her lips, she’s smiling and crying and he laughs with her. 

 

“Hey,” he says softly, brushing her tears away with his thumbs. “I can’t stand seeing anyone cry.”

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” She asks him, suddenly a little self conscious and remembering her rule about never crying in front of a captain. 

 

But they had removed those costumes, hadn’t they? 

 

“Not at all,” Chris says with a slow shake of his head. “I just wish I could take the pain for you.”

“I think you’ve had enough. Besides, we need pain sometimes. Teaches us what we can stand.” She doesn’t know what compelled her to do it, but that loose gray lock was begging to be brushed back. 

 

As she did her fingers revelled in how soft it was, how easily she slid her fingers over his cheek and impressed by her own bravery as she traced his bottom lip with her thumb, enjoying the way he closed his eyes at her touch. 

 

So, the attraction was more than mutual, she decided. His hand finds her knee, the one still pressed into his own. He fills the gap between them, lowering his head slowly their lips inches apart. 

 

The descent to kiss had never been more gradual for Michael. It had been easy to kiss Ash, they knew from the word go that they were- as Tilly described it-  _ into _ one another. It had been a crush with him, it had been an instantaneous “I like you”. 

 

But Chris... Captain Pike, whatever she was to call him now, was a slow landslide into a pool of hot, coiling feelings she had not been anticipating. He was so courageous and kind. So good, so terribly,  _ terribly, unfairly _ good. 

 

His lips touch the corner of her mouth first, testing the waters that form the remnants of her tears. If he wanted to take his time he was employing every method. His hand hadn’t moved an inch since landing on her knee, his upper body making only slight adjustments. 

 

She wants him to kiss her, she wants to taste him, but he wants this to last. He’s not interested in rushing anything with her and she realizes it’s because of what he knows about her. And it makes her slick to know he’s thinking of her comfort more than anything right now. That he’s taking into account everything she’s been through instead of just mauling her and having his way with her.

 

The latter wasn’t an entirely unpleasant thought. Though she couldn’t imagine him coming too undone and losing control. Did he have it in him? What kind of lover was Christopher Pike? She imagined him tender and giving but was that an honest deduction?

 

This thought and more were cut short when he kissed her just below her chin in the small space where her neck almost just began and she never realized how sensitive it was until now. She had to tip her head back and his mouth traveled from one side to the other.

 

Funny how you learn things about your own body through someone else.

 

Her hands were gripping his sturdy biceps. To use another phrase from Tilly, he was certainly cut. 

 

“Is that ok?” He whispers against her skin, his hot breath forcing her to clench her legs together and she nods. 

 

“Yes.” She knows he needs to hear her say it. She’s pleased when he moves back to her jawline and her cheek, cupping both sides of her face before finally, FINALLY kissing her mouth. 

 

When he does it’s as slow as the rest of the evening, pressing firmly against her but not demanding she lower the gates. She can’t know what he tastes like just yet but if this was the prelude to more she was looking forward to whatever he planned next. 

 

Giving him a little more encouragement she drops her bottom lip and his mouth slips deeper against her own, moaning softly against her lips. A few short, sweet kisses later and he’s back to claim her mouth, this time it’s heated and filled with a longing she’d never felt before. 

 

And she finally knows his taste. The whiskey, the mint and the man behind it all. Utterly masculine, sensual and slow. His tongue delves into her mouth to chase her own and she whines in the back of her throat. She leans back into the couch where he’s pulled half over her, his hands keeping a respectable distance from parts unknown. 

 

Michael is reminded of making out with a senior officer at the academy, Stultz. He had been a good kisser and they had wasted many hours after studying in his dorm kissing and grinding against one another. She hadn’t been ready at the time for much else, let alone a boyfriend. In truth, Stultz had mostly been research. She had her first orgasm through yoga pants and his work out shorts. 

 

But he was a senior academy officer and would be graduating soon and assigned to a ship. It wasn’t in the cards to have a relationship with him. They kept in touch briefly but eventually stopped communication all together. She hadn’t been broken hearted and hadn’t attempted another dalliance of the like until she met Ash.

 

Now she was reminded of how wonderful it felt to simply kiss someone who was good at it. 

 

One of Chris’s knees moves between her legs planting itself there as he moves her further back onto the couch. He doesn’t want to come on too strong but he wants her to feel something. 

 

He unzips her jacket and tosses it aside, returning to her quickly whispering,

 

“We don’t have to-”

“I know.” She adds on, bringing his mouth back to hers. 

 

He was good at everything he did, she decided. Captain Pike, one of the most decorated Starfleet officers in known history, spiritual, grounded, level headed, dreamer and optimist was also one hell of a kisser. 

 

And his ability to multitask was not going unnoticed as he applied the tiniest bit of pressure with his knee against her pussy, allowing her to grind against him. God, she could cum just like this. 

 

“Don’t stop,” she whines when he travels back to her neck, using his teeth to gently nip at her skin, his hands finally moving to the hem of her shirt. With a minute nod of her head he moves his hand up her side, then further until his hand is at the valley of her breasts. Over her bra his thumb brushes her hard nipple and she whimpers softly, biting her bottom lip. 

 

Folding himself over her he licks the space above her pants at her belly and she’s trembling fiercely at the idea of him between her legs, licking and fucking her with his fingers. Those thick, rough fingers...

 

Then Chris’s hand is under her bra and her whole breast is engulfed in the heat of his huge palm as he continues to lavish wet, open kisses to her belly, teasing her. This might be better than her makeout sessions with Stultz by a long shot. Shit, they weren’t even in the same league... Stultz,  _ Stultz _ who?

 

Chris is back, they’re chest to chest though his hand in still trapped under her bra and under shirt, squeezing and pinching her nipple every so often. His knee never left and never gave up on the pressure against her clit until she was rubbing herself against the firm joint. She feels him against her hip bone, hot and hard. 

 

It’s not enough, she needs more. She maneuvers her leg around his waist, forcing him between her legs entirely until she feels his swollen length against her core and it’s his turn to groan. 

 

“Michael,” his eyes are tightly shut, one hand plants itself at one perfectly sculpted bicep while the other grips his ass pulling him against her. 

 

Christ, he can feel how hot she is, how wet she is. He reaches under her to take a firm hold of her own ass because damn it two can play that game and he finally can without getting court martialed. He’s thought about her ass plenty of times and how pert and cute it is, admiring it subtly and to himself. He was a man after all. 

 

He felt like a teenager all the sudden, on his parents couch making out with Yvette, a girl a year older than him. Of course the allure back then was they could get caught and punished. Now the allure was totally different from any other experience he had had. 

 

The chances of getting caught were slim unless someone decided to not announce their presence and simply walk in. He couldn’t picture any of the crew doing that. No, it was dangerous because they were both officers and she was his subordinate. It was lethal and so sexy he couldn’t help how it fueled his passion for her. 

 

It wasn’t the only attraction, but it definitely brought a certain spice to the situation. 

 

“ _ Oh _ , I’m...” Michael breathes heavily into his neck, kissing his collarbone through his shirt which was growing damp with sweat adding another layer of scent to everything, she could even taste it on her tongue. Chris was almost in disbelief. He wasn’t sure when the last time he made a woman cum simply from dry humping her, not that he was complaining. “Don’t stop.” She begged him again as he continued to canter his hips into her just so.

 

The friction was working on him too as his cock begged him to just fuck her. He lifts her shirt and bra higher until it’s over her breasts, in his frenzy his lips find a tender bud, licking and biting and she’s crying out, his hand on her ass bringing her core directly against his straining cock. 

 

“Fuck, Michael,” he grunts against her chest and soon he feels her shuddering against him, her knees quivering and he lifts his head to see her biting her bottom lip again and her eyes closed. 

 

Jesus. Chris never got over the way women glowed after cumming, in those blissful moments afterward when the universe was silent. He reaches out to stroke the sweat from her brow and she opens her eyes, lifts her neck and kisses him again. 

 

Somewhere in the distraction of her kiss she had reached down between them and took hold of his cock, he cried out at the shock of it, tearing himself from her lips. The perfect, manly grunts of pleasure that came from him were enough to reinvigorate Michael. She wanted to hear more from him. 

 

The look on his face drove her to bedlam. 

 

He was certainly well built in many ways. Thick, long and pulsing in her hand, a wet spot had formed at the front of his uniform trousers and she was determined to feel more of him. He didn’t try to stop her as she unbuttoned his pants and to finally reach inside and take hold of him. 

 

His eyes were closed, his hand on her ass squeezing harder again as she stroked his dick. 

 

“Inside,” she whispers against his mouth, her tongue tracing his bottom lip. “I want you inside me.” 

 

Fucking damn it. He rises, tearing off his shirt and reaching for her own pants, dragging them down her hips just far enough and they get lodged somewhere past her knees because she didn’t take her boots off. 

 

Fuck it. He’ll fuck her with her boots on, he doesn’t care at this point and she doesn’t either. Wedging himself between her legs again she watches as he strokes himself in front of her before sliding the tip of his cock along her wet slit. 

 

She runs her hands up his arms and chest again. Definitely cut, those fucking abs should be illegal. 

 

“Sure?” He asks her one last time, her answer is wrapping her leg around his waist yanking him as close to her as possible. Well, that answers that question. He moves inside of her slowly because he knows it won’t last otherwise, he’s already on a razor’s edge. Michael clenches hard around him, having not felt so filled in so long. 

 

“Uh, yes.” She whimpers and he moves a little deeper to pull out again, slow on his descent. He stays still inside her for a moment, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. Then with a new resolve he sets a pace without giving her much warning, catching her off guard and forcing to her catch up to him. 

 

He’s on his knees moving between her legs, she’s half sitting up, her legs splayed over his thighs, half naked and she’s sure she looks every bit the wanton nymph she is as he the mighty warrior taking a prize. 

 

_ Take me, take it all,  _ she thinks wildly. 

 

He’s only moving harder and deeper and she’s letting him. A little pain here and there but hardly any compared to the pleasure he’s giving her. He’s kissing her again, tongues stroking against the other and she doesn’t remember Ash or Stultz or Spock or anyone. Chris can’t recall what was burdening him to such sadness in the first place, he can’t remember he’s a fugitive from the Federation. 

 

“Oh,  **fuck** .” He hears her curse and if it were under different circumstances he would’ve taken the time to laugh but instead it only drives him deeper inside of her because it’s him that’s making her reach that point of no return. He’s giving something back to her, she’s receiving him in a way she never had with Ash.

 

Michael realizes she’s feeling passion in intimacy when she hadn’t before. It was exhilarating. 

 

“ _ Christ _ opher...” he cums inside her when he hears his name breaking through the barrier of her lips, like a cosmic hymn of a long forgotten time. A past he can’t remember, a future he’s seen but forgotten like a seconds old dream. 

 

Fuck, her pussy is fluttering around him, seismic waves of flesh engulfing him and he’s trembling, supporting himself with a hand behind her head gripping the arm of the sofa. 

 

Christ, woman in glory and salvation. 

 

After catching his breath and tucking himself back into his pants he easily lifts her off the couch. Sensing where he plans to take her she kicks her boots off during the short journey from his ready room area to the connected bedroom in the back. 

 

“Lights, 25%.” He orders calmly, his voice giving nothing of their previous activities away. He sits  her on the bed and she watches him closely as he pulls her shirt and bra off entirely; for a moment his fingers moving on the swollen areas where he kissed or sucked a little too roughly. Her nipples instantly harden again at his touch.

 

He finishes the removal of her pants and the torn underwear, he hadn’t realized he had been that vulgar. He feels her hands on his shoulder, wrapping around him, pulling him back to her and his face kisses her over her heart. 

 

Urging her backward again she makes room for him on the bed. He keeps telling himself he’ll kiss her one last time then they’ll talk, then they’ll rest then they’ll... they’ll...

 

“I want you,” she says, almost timidly, as if the last twenty minutes had never happened. He cracks a smile against her cheek, his tongue finding it’s wicked way to her neck.

 

“You just had me,” he reminds her and she shivers at the sound of his voice. 

“Not enough.” Michael insists, reaching for his clothed dick again and he trembles anew and removes her hand, slightly shaking his head.

 

“Still pretty sensitive,” he says, humor lacing through his lowered voice. “But don’t worry. I won’t leave you unsatisfied.” 

 

She raises a perfect eyebrow at him,

 

“Why, Captain Pike, you sound awfully sure of yourself.”

 

His first answer is cupping her mound with a firm hand, shocking a gasp from her lips, his thumb toying with her clit, his index finger dipping ever so slightly into her pussy. 

 

“All previous encounters have been friendly.” He says, his mouth refusing to give into her when she attempts to kiss him again. “Might need to experiment with other options.” 

 

Michael’s breathing hitches again, he wasn’t the only one still sensitive. Before long he’s pumping two thick fingers inside her and she gripping the sheets with one hand. 

 

“Please...” She whimpers, she’s so close, it’s so tight and and she’s ready.

“I wanna hear you say it.” He says, his voice so dark and for a moment she feels a queer twinge of intimidation from him, something she had never felt before. It’s not entirely unwelcome, just different. 

 

And despite her abhorrence to such masculine overtures she can’t help but want to give what he wants, she’ll do anything he asks of her, she would go to hell back-

 

“Please... make me cum.” 

 

Within seconds he’s disappeared from her field of vision, she closes her eyes and she cries out in abandon when she feels his mouth suction onto her clitorous as his fingers pump harder and deeper inside of her. 

 

_ Yes... right there... it was so right, so close, so everything- _

 

“Yes!” Her orgasm shoots through her spine and she’s actually sitting up while he holds her knee apart, her back bending towards him because she can’t take this lying down. Chris crawls up her body kissing her inner thighs, her knees, her belly button. His chin leaves a wet trail behind him so crude she almost doesn’t recognize him. 

 

_ He can be indecent,  _ she thinks when his mouth lands on hers, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth as surely as he thrust it inside her. He encourages her to mount him and straddling his waist she feels the slightest bit of apprehension. Not that she hadn’t made love to Ash this way, it’s that each position with Ash was erased by a new face. 

 

Slowly, Chris was taking over each and every memory. Each cell inside of her screamed for him. She hoped she smelled like him even after she showered, even after he was gone and returned to his own ship, she hoped he lingered under her skin. It would painful parting from him and the more she thought of it she less worried and self conscious she became.

 

The more she remembered that the Federation were looking for them, actively seeking to harm Spock and others, the more determined she felt. The galaxy as they knew it, their whole way of life and thinking, their beliefs, could be snuffed out in an instant. She wasn’t about to waste the little time she had with this man feeling shrinking like a violet. 

 

“Hey,” he seems to sense her hesitance and leans up to take her hand in his, kissing her palm.

“I’m sorry.” She blurts out for some reason. 

“Don’t be.” The dark look he had been sporting seconds ago as his lips had mapped the solar system of her body was gone, returned to her was her white knight. 

 

“You’re it,” she says, her hands cupping his face.

“What?” He asks her, his voice slightly lazy and curious to know what she means.

“You’re what all the stories are about.” 

 

Perhaps if anyone else had said something so altruistic he would have humbly dissuaded them. 

 

But the way in which Michael looked at him as if he had the power to move heaven and earth created a sense of honor and dignity within himself he had never felt before, in a way he had never felt fulfilled before. He had once been fulfilled by duty and honor to the Federation. Now that seemed like the aftermath of an earthquake. 

 

“I’m only human, Michael.” He tells her seriously. 

“Exactly.” 

 

Kissing him again, he forgets the profound exclamation she’s made unto him and he gets lost in her hermetic passion once more. This time when she sinks down on his length he guides her slowly, refusing to lose control as he had on the sofa. Parts of him are a little ashamed of how he handled her but another part still needs to be fed. 

 

She seems practically rapacious for him, and he wasn’t complaining. He feels her clenching, squeezing him tighter and tighter inside of her, urging him and insisting he go deeper without using words. He refused her, trapping her wrists her behinds her back and bring other hand to her waist.

 

Michael whines against his chin, attempting to distract him with another one of her deliriously tempting kisses but he evades her yet again. 

 

She was confused, suddenly he was playing hard to get? But when she leant back to look at him in the 25% lighted room she was met with that same intimidating glare she was slowly growing accustomed to. 

 

“My way.” He warned her and she had no choice but to allow him what he wanted. “My way.” He repeated and it became clear to her he needed something else from her, something she hadn’t thought she would be remotely willing to give up to anyone again. 

 

Control. 

 

Despite the misgivings she knew she should have it came easily to her. It was growing ever more apparent to her just how much control he would have over her in all things. 

 

“Ok.” She agrees. 

 

Chris cups the back of her, her precious delicate neck, his fingertips feeling the curls at the back of her head and his hand releases his tight lock on her bound wrists. She plants down on the bed, gripping the sheets and he props her up with his knees against her back before laying siege to her quim entirely. 

 

The jerk of his hips is deep, hard and slow, dragging himself out and invading again. God, it’s too much, he’s hitting the perfect angle, it’s building higher and more taught than ever before. 

 

She’s already cum three times, he was expecting another forth? 

 

Michael is panting against his chest,

 

“I... I can’t,” she tells him and he kisses her temple, his fingers digging into her hair and forcing her to look at him.

 

“Yes you can, I’m right here,” his voice cracks on the last word and she can’t take her eyes off him again. “Right... here.”

 

Jesus Christ... that seemed to just do the trick. It almost feels like she’s been whipped or stunned or... electrocuted. Like she’s walked through Tesla’s lightning bolts and come out the other side. His eyes never leave hers when she cums and she can’t find in herself to look anywhere but at him when he too reaches his peak. 

 

He’s groaning so roughly she’s almost concerned but only almost... because the way he sounds, looks, smells and tastes are all over her. That look in his eye... serious but philosophical. 

 

Pensive but primal. Masculine but angelic.

 

Michael lies facing him, their hands clasped between them bodies. She notices the scar on his side from where the phasor had exploded under him. Fool he had been, hero. 

 

“What did you know about me before you came here?” She asks him, they’re both tired but don’t want to sleep. He just wants to be awake with her, even if it’s silence or small talk he doesn’t care.

 

“Spock rarely spoke of you,” he admits and it doesn’t hurt her as much as it should. “But when he did it was of your intellect, your curiosity, your humanity.” 

 

“And what did you think?” 

“I thought... that’s a lady I have to meet one day.” He says honestly. She can see no trace of deceit in his eyes. 

 

This was more than pillow talk, Michael realized. If she had found passion through intimacy then she was discovering a whole new level of intimacy all together. 

 

“And... the mutiny?” She dares to ask him, she’s never asked him before and he’s never brought it up. Never thrown it in her face and made her feel like a traitor or that she was unworthy of the uniform she wore. 

 

“When I heard it was you- with the little I knew about you- I was surprised. But I tend to try and get to know a person before I pass judgment.” He says, she knows he’s tip toeing around something she just doesn’t know what. 

 

Michael had queer feeling she had been here before, it was unsettling how it passed over her like a shadow of something unseen. A memory she realized only now, but it couldn’t have happened. It was impossible but it was there, in her mind, sitting there. 

 

“I... I saw you,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “At the academy.” 

“That’s not possible, Michael,” he tells and she nods, agreeing with him but yet the memory is there. 

 

“You were horseback riding on the beach,” she continues and she finds herself sitting up but his hand is still in hers, moves with her. 

 

“Yeah, the semester was over- how could you have been there? You were a kid on Vulcan.” He blinks a few times then... Michael sees it settle in him as well. He can see her on the beach, she’s in the distance but it unmistakably Michael. She’s wearing a dark dress, out of place for such a location. 

 

In his memory he barely registers her before he passes her, not even looking back... 

 

“How...” Suddenly his comms chime.

“Captain Pike, you’re needed on the bridge.” Saru announces urgently.

“Be right there.” Chris answers promptly. 

 

Michael grips his hand tighter. 

 

“I know,” he says. “I... Michael, I don’t know what’s going to happen but-”

“It’s ok. Thank you.” She says, she feels like she’s saying goodbye.

 

She  _ has  _ said goodbye. She sees Spock all of the sudden, a memory... but this can’t be happening, it can’t be possible. Where Michael had been feeling confused by the new addition of Chris on the beach, she now felt an overwhelming fear, sadness, grief... she was in mourning-

 

_ Take him there, Spock... take him there so he won’t suffer. _

 

_ It is out the question. It is impossible to- _

 

_ Please. You know what he means to me. To us. He would do it for you.  _

 

_ This is... it disrupts balance, Michael.  _

 

_ I’ll find a way. A way back to him.  _

 

_ Michael, if you wish this then I shall do everything in my power to see it to fruition. But you must tread carefully. What is done cannot be undone... _

 

On the bridge everyone is a flurry of actions, all at their stations but information is being thrown at both Michael and Chris so fast he has to raise his voice to get to the bottom of what’s happening, 

 

“Alright everyone, deep breath!” 

 

The bridge is muted except for the natural sounds that permeate from various stations. Tugging the bottom half of his jacket down he takes his seat in the captain’s chair,

 

“Now, one at a time.” 

 

Carefully Saru approaches and Michael listens as the first officer delivers news to Pike.

 

Admiral Cornwall’s ship is fast approaching and will be within range in less than twenty minutes. She had hailed them and was surprised not to find Pike at the helm. Saru had made excuses for the captain’s absence but Cornwall was not pleased. 

 

“What are your orders, sir?” Saru asks him and Chris knows his every move is being watched, every second he doesn’t speak is another ounce of doubt. He can’t have that. No matter his decision, he needs to make one; he glances momentarily at Michael who meets his eyes while making commands to her own station’s computer, before lowering again. 

 

That’s all he needed.

 

“Detmer, full stop.”

“Sir?” The redhead questions and he raises steady hand to her, 

“I’m not about to get into a fight with an admiral,” he informs her and the bridge. “So far this fugitive status of ours hasn’t shed any blood. I intend to keep it that way.” 

 

The bridge crew, in the belief that Pike knew best, follows his orders. The swishing of doors opening and closing turns heads as none other than the person they had all been searching for, for weeks made his appearance and of course dressed in  _ Disco’s _ best and brightest blues.

 

“It suits you,” Pike comments.

“Thank you, Captain, however this is not my particular shade.” 

 

Michael attempts to keep her snort under wraps but fails miserably, Tilly notices of course. 

 

“Admiral Cornwall’s ship is approaching.” Chris informs Spock, who asserts himself beside his captain while being slowly flanked by Saru. 

 

“I had not expected otherwise,” Spock replies stoically, hands clasped behind his back and for a moment Michael sees him again... aged, older, not by much. Vulcans don’t age the same way humans do, but he doesn’t have the beard, he’s back in his normal uniform. Did he see it too?

 

Chris had obviously been affected in some way, was Spock? What more was happening in the investigation and search for the Red Angel?

 

No sooner had the thought crossed Michael’s mind then did the ship suddenly lurch, her first thought was gripping her station for purchase and then for anyone still standing. 

 

When her eyes finally rise to the center of the room, Pike has hold of Spock’s arm steadying him and firmly holding him in place. 

 

“Report.” Chris demands evenly. 

“System wide failures, captain, decks 6 and 8 experiencing overloads.”

 

Rising Chris hovers over Owo’s station,

 

“Where’s the damn emergency power?” 

“I’m trying, sir, but everything is being rerouted.”

“Rerouted where?” 

 

A burst of red and everyone shields their eyes, it’s so blinding Michael has to turn her back. Someone staggers into her, taking her hand, it feels like Tilly’s hand... 

 

_ This is... it disrupts  _ balance _ , Michael.  _

 

_ I’ll find a way. A way back to him.  _

 

_ Michael, if you wish this then I shall do everything in my power to see it to fruition. But you must tread carefully. What is done cannot be undone, you know what limits even you have.  _

 

It’s as if she’s in the room with them, if she were to only open her eyes she would see it. But the light is so red and so penetrating she would go blind, she was sure of it. 

 

_ This is not the future we saw. He was there with us. _

_ The future is not a straight path, Michael, you know this. _

_ I can change it. _

_ You already did once. It always leads us back here. Every time. Again and again. Each stone you turn over in your pursuit to save him leads us here. Even now... look, it’s happening again. _

 

Michael finally opens her eyes but when she does she feels a hand under her own, dead weight and cold. She sees herself on  _ Disco _ , squinting to see and blinded by the beam of light. She glances down at the hand she’s holding, under white sheets, her eyes travel higher and higher until she’s met with a terrible sight.

 

Christopher lies in a hospital bed connected to machines she can only assume- no, she’s  _ sure _ \- are the only thing keeping him alive. He doesn’t look the same. It’s not him, she tells herself. This can’t be him. The Christopher Pike she knows is upright, kind, handsome, aware... 

 

This man is broken. His face is riddled with deep purple scar tissue, lacerations to every part of his body. She looks back and she’s staring at herself in disbelief because the Michael who's on  _ Disco  _ has seen them too. She’s somehow existing in both of these places at once. She feels Chris’ hand under her own, that terribly dead weight, and she feels her feet planted firmly on the floor of the bridge...

 

_ Do you see now? _

_ Yes,  _ yes.

 

They both answer in tandem. Time wasn’t a straight line. She was seeing it as Spock had seen it when he melded with the Red Angel. 

 

_ Look, Michael, look and see. _

 

Michael turns her attention towards the viewing screen of the bridge and walks towards it, leaving behind her other half, leaving behind the half vegetative Chris and older Spock. She can still feel herself holding his near lifeless hand, the hospital bed under her legs... the light is pulling her in. 

 

“Michael!” Arms grab her, tearing her away and she fights them.

“No, I need to see!” 

 

The red glare is gone and she’s on the floor, Nhan standing over her. 

 

“Was that-”

“I think it was.”

“Holy shit.”

 

The ship is illuminated once more and Nhan is helping Michael to her feet once more, taking hold of her shoulders.

 

“You ok, commander?” Nhan asks and she shakingly nods her head.

 

“Burnham,” Pike calls her over and Spock has disappeared to Saru’s station along with Tilly. 

“Captain.” She answers avoiding his gaze, which he notices without much investigation.

 

She can’t look at him suddenly. She can’t, if she does she’ll be back in that room, holding his hand, watching him die, bargaining with Spock for- for something. Seeing herself in own eyes, seeing both places at once. 

 

Linear time, fluid time... the Red Angel suddenly appearing. Michael both feared and saw the worst and she could not tell him. The law of time still applied, what would happen if she changed something? 

 

“Michael,” he says a little more quietly. “Look at me.”

 

Clenching her jaw she slowly ascends her gaze. He’s still the same... his face isn’t mauled by horrible radiation burns. His eyes are active, his face concerned. 

 

“We’ll talk about this.” He says decidedly because all he needed was one look from her to know. 

 

Stealing a glance towards Saru’s station Spock’s eyes were fixed on her and in that moment she knew. He had seen whatever happened too.

 

Owo informs them she was able to get a better scan of the Angel while it was knocking on their front door. She sends the information to Michael who nervously begins dissecting the data. 

 

Spock comes to her then, over her shoulder he diligently reads over what’s been collected.

 

After a short time he speaks in a hushed tone,

 

“It’s you.” 

 

Michael ignores him, choosing to continue working out whatever the being has given them. 

 

“I’m working.” She reminds him but he won’t leave. She never liked anyone hovering over her shoulder anyway. 

 

“ _ You _ are the Angel, Michael.” 

 

Spock’s hand slips from her monitor and he returns to his place with Saru. She can’t compute everything that has happened in such a short period of time. She cannot discern anything. Michael feels herself slipping from her station, moving numbly towards the turbolift. 

 

Someone calls out her name, she faces the doors as they close, only to see Chris attempting to stop her but it’s too late. 

 

Michael feels the sob beginning in her gut, burning a hole through her esophagus, then her throat is burning so badly she cannot hold back the sob that shatters her limb from limb. 

 

Beams of light point in various directions, she sees spots in her vision, distant feelings, close feelings, things she’s kept at arm’s length and things she refuses to let herself remember. 

 

Stumbling to her quarters she doesn’t even raise the lights. She sheds her outer uniform, she can’t breathe. She had described her pain to Chris as a weight that sat heavily in her chest. As minute and small and invisible as a speck of dust, but it’s weight... like Marley’s chains.

 

Michael’s mind is racing, she’s breathing too fast. She’s trying to control it. She’s trying to see past her tunnel vision and the spots that are blinding her. 

 

_ Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale... push the pain down.  _ **_Focus_ ** _. The distraction is a running faucet, you can turn a faucet off. Turn it off, Michael. Reach out and turn off the faucet. Turn it off. Inhale, exhale, breathe, listen to your slowing down, you’re calm. You’re safe. The water isn’t running so fast and neither is your heart. A little more, all the way. Inhale, exhale... _

 

She’s on her side on the bed. She can avoid whatever future she had seen. She must separate herself from him. She must become detached, she must disconnect. 

 

No. No. It was already too late. She felt trapped beneath her own emotions, her feelings for Captain Pike. If only she could warn herself, warn him- she sits upright, suddenly she has this horrible sensation of being watched. She’s seen too much. Is this how Spock felt, when he was losing his mind? 

 

Is this how it begins? Her quest to stop herself from falling in love with Christopher? Where did it begin? 

 

“Michael,” Tilly’s voice is near, she didn’t even hear her enter the room. “Sweetie, I need you to stay calm.”

 

“I have... I have to stop it.” Michael says to her, her eyes are darting around the room. 

“Thank you Ensign, that will be all.” Spock’s voice is an echo worlds away. 

“I have to stop it.”

 

Spock is not unsympathetic to her pain, her turmoil. He himself knows a great deal of what is racing through her mind. He imagines that is why her future counterpart chose him. Whatever future Michael was trying to tell him she couldn’t in full. She had to reveal bits and pieces at a time. All at once would’ve killed him, a little at a time only nearly drove him mad.

 

In a way he was thankful for her faith in her him to handle such a difficult task. And she had come full circle for him in the end. It was only right to return the favor. 

 

Lifting a hand to her temple he applied only the barest amount of pressure. 

 

“My mind to your mind. My thoughts to your thoughts...” The doorway to her mind is opened with a resounding creak and he sees it all. 

 

She’s smiling in her intimate moments with Captain Pike, he delves further back. Her first initial meeting with him, she had hardly noticed him. Over time Spock feels this unresolved tension, this impulse to please the captain, her reliance on him, her faith, her admiration... he feels her love blooming right under her nose. She isn’t aware. That’s the tragedy. 

 

The Angel- Michael- wasn’t sure when it began. 

 

Removing himself from her mind slowly so as to not harm her she releases a heavy sigh.

 

With a great relief she feels semi back to normal, albeit frightened and exhausted. 

 

“Spock,” she whispers weakly, reaching for his hand. He allows her this. 

“You love the captain.” He informs her and she shakes head. 

“I barely know him-”

“Human nature is human nature, Michael.”

 

It’s not good enough. She tries to sit up but a single finger pointed into her shoulder stops her. 

 

“I believe you are in need of rest,” he says, rising gracefully.

“This can’t be happening.”

“All evidence to the contrary.” She wants to smack that stupid beard off his face. 

 

“Spock, this means more than-”

“I am aware of what it means. It means I should have sought your help from the very beginning. Now we will never know what is to become of our future and why you future self is so fiercely attempting to safeguard it and Captain Pike.”

 

With those last words he departs. How very Vulcan of him. To degrade her and compliment her all at once. An area under her breast hurts, like a bruise beneath the skin you cannot see. 

 

“There are more things in heaven and earth...” she quotes quietly to herself. “You were right about that.” 

**Author's Note:**

> So this totally blew up and became way too out of control for me NOT to finish it. Basically they’re a rare ship and I do love me a rare ship. Whatever, this was fun enough to just write :)


End file.
